


All the Stars in Texas

by flamboyantgentleman



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M, au in which dirk doesn't live in some huge futuristic wasteland, city boy y'all, gay teens in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-08
Updated: 2012-04-08
Packaged: 2017-11-03 06:11:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/378187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flamboyantgentleman/pseuds/flamboyantgentleman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"But all the stars in Texas ain't got nothin' on your eyes when you say 'let's hit 'em one more time'." -Ludo</p>
            </blockquote>





	All the Stars in Texas

**Author's Note:**

> yee-haw

Dirk has spent his whole life growing up in the city. The urban sprawl is home to him, a garden of concrete pillars and steel skeletons, and he loves the sharp certainty of every street sign and doorway. He loves the way the world moves around him, a grayscale clock ticking from the whitewashed hours of the morning to a deep midnight black, loves the way the city breathes the sounds of _life_.

But, oh—most of all, he loves the color. The color that is sparse and so, so unforgettable, the color that comes in a spray paint can and decks the city in a million shades. The scrawl can speak a hundred languages, but he reads it in time. Forty-seven minutes in the morning that the world stretches open its weary eyes and whispers a placid yellow onto the streets. Sixty-six minutes that the noonday sun slips across the cornflower blue of the sky and electrifies it. And twenty, twenty short minutes that the earth bears its soul at the edge of the day, bright with a symphony of pinks and golds and oranges that sizzle on his windowpane.

When Dirk first meets Jake, all he sees is color—the rough, balmy pink of his jaw, the calloused beige of his palms, the sharp, shimmering green of his eyes—and it reminds him of home. Jake is like graffiti, so vibrant against the tired brick backdrop of his life.

But there’s something about him that doesn’t fit, a streak of warmth that doesn’t measure into the cool complacency of the city. Those green, green eyes aren’t green like the cultivated palms that line the more polished neighborhoods, not green like the fluorescent grass in the middle of winter. They’re green like the _jungle_ , green with a wild vivacity that speaks out in bright excitement against the hushed tones of the city.

It’s a year before Dirk stops trying to bring the city to Jake and starts trying to bring Jake’s strange brand of color into the city. He sees it in a flash of leaves, fresh in spring, or in the unabashed underbelly of a hummingbird sipping nectar. Green is no longer a color but a _feeling_ , a medley of touchsighttastesound playing like leather-bound drums on his fingertips every time he greets pink, pink lips.

He’s not quite sure when this murmur of a feeling slipped under his skin, but Jake’s soft, yellow smiles and the gentle cream of his half-moon fingernails warm on Dirk’s palm remind him in a million beautiful hues that it’s there to stay.


End file.
